


Just Super

by Smapdi



Category: Superstore
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 17:05:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6337705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smapdi/pseuds/Smapdi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little interaction between these characters that I wrote to try and get their voices down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Super

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before the finale so obviously Amy was not yet assistant manager and they were not striking. I wasn't going to post it but there's no fic in this fandom and that's not right. I didn't even have a title. I hope someone reads it!

The last thing Amy wanted to hear today was that overly chipper, maddeningly happy voice, bouncing off the shabby ecru walls, right into her brain.

Jonah.

"Hey! I was wondering where you were hiding out. Mateo said you were doing the schedules." Jonah swung a chair out and sat backwards on it beside her, oblivious to the death glare she had cast at him. "Well, actually, he said you were constructing the rigid parameters of our futile existence, but I figured it out. Doesn't Glenn usually do that?"

Trying, and failing, to ignore the dull ache in her wrist, Amy snapped a pencil tip on the graph paper she was using to map out hours. "Yes, but he's got another migraine, and this needs to be turned in to corporate by noon, so I'm the lucky one he picked. Yay me."

"Why don't you just copy the shifts from last week?" Jonah produced an apple from his bag and took a hearty bite, resulting in a fine mist of apple in the air. Amy wiped at her cheek.

"Could you please chew quieter? And I can't copy the shifts, because we have to cut hours back by 10%. Plus, Cheyenne has a work restriction and that new girl, Deb? She got caught in the dressing room doing a little side job, if you catch my drift."

"No way. Who caught her? Please tell me it wasn't Myrtle."

"It was Myrtle." Amy set down her pen and rubbed her eyes. "Did you need something? I really have to finish this and I'm just exhausted."

"No, no, I was just on my break and I wanted to say hi. So... hi." Jonah accented it with a wag of his fingers and Amy had to suppress the urge to snap them off one by one.

"Ok. Hi. Can you just..." She waved him off, returning her attention to the mess in front of her. It would have been so much easier if the scheduling was computer based, where a program could take input on the employees and spit out shifts by rote, but no. She had to do it by hand because Glenn's official Cloud Nine issue computer hadn't been updated in a billion years and still ran Vista. Vista!

"I can help, sure." Jonah reached across her to grab the graph, brushing against her boob in the process. And he didn't even seem to notice! Amy wanted to slap him. She wasn't sure why her instincts towards him were so violent, but she managed to keep them in check. So far.

Jonah scanned the sheet, his eyes darting across the oversized paper, and Amy watched him silently. She couldn't quite put her finger on what it was that made him so maddening, probably because there was so much to choose from: his too-good-to-be-real persona, his staggering cluelessness, the fact that he smelled so good and looked even better and she needed to stop thinking so much about that and pay attention to what he was doing. What was he doing?? He'd erased half the sheet and penciled in over everything she'd already done.

One look told her she'd made a huge mistake. She tore the schedule from his hands.

"No, no, what are you doing? You can't have one cashier at closing! Look, you've got six stockers on a Sunday when there's no shipments coming in. And you gave Myrtle a clopen! Are you trying to kill her?" Amy threw down the pad in frustration. "I'm going to have to completely start over. You've ruined everything."

"I can change it back, just let me..."

"Stop, just stop. You can't fix everything, okay? You're always just so goddamned cheery and gung ho and it makes me sick!"

Jonah stared at her, wounded puppy dog eyes in full force. "I'm trying to help you. I know you've got...stuff...going on at home."

"Well, you can't help this, okay, Jonah? You can't help that my marriage is over and that my daughter is going to be torn up from this and that I'm going to have to put school on hold probably forever because I can't afford it alone and I'm constantly tired and constantly worried and sad and I haven't had sex in a year!"

Amy froze, horrified. She hadn't meant all that to come bursting out like a shaken up soda bottle, but it did and Jonah stared at her, mouth agape.

He finally spoke. "A year?"

"Of course that's your takeaway." Amy shook her head. "Just go, and let me finish this, okay?"

"No, I mean, I'm really sorry about all that. It's gotta be tough on everyone, but you know, changes happen and they help you grow as a person and move forwards and..."

"Jonah. What part of you're not helping did you miss from thirty seconds ago? I can't with you. I don't want to hear your pep talk and your positive thinking and your silver lining bullshit. It makes me feel terrible because you make me feel like I'm the most negative person in the world, and I'm not. I'm realistic. Life is shitty sometimes and no amount of Hallmark sentiments is going to change that. Just let me finish my work in peace. Please."

"Okay. I'm sorry." Jonah made no move to leave, just knitted his brow in concern.

Amy stared at the paper for a full minute. "You know what? To hell with corporate and their hours reduction. We're already short staffed as it is, and I'm tired of the complaints from customers for the long lines and from all of you," she gestured at the sheet. "Telling me you need more hours or better hours or whatever. I'm just submitting last week's schedule again but I'm giving half Cheyenne's shifts to you." This time, she pointed directly at Jonah. "And all of Deb's."

"That's fine! I promise to stay out of the dressing rooms. Scout's honor." Jonah grinned cheerily at her. "So hey. Do you want to grab dinner tonight, after work?"

"Are you seriously hitting on me right now? After I just ranted about all the things that make me want to strangle you?"

"What can I say. I'm a positive person."

Amy shook her head. "You're a golden retriever, that's what you are. All dumb and cute and relentlessly wanting people to like you."

"That's not a no..."

"Jonah, I'm nowhere near in the position to be back on the market. And I have to pick up Emma from her dad's... God, it feels so weird to say that."

"I just meant as friends, you know, moral support and all. But wow, how interesting that you just go right to that conclusion. What does that say about where your head's at..."

Against all her better efforts, a smile fought its way through and appeared, briefly, before she put on an exaggerated scowl. "Jonah, go back to work. I'm pretty sure your break is over."

"Yes, boss." Jonah got up and Amy thought she was free until he turned back at the door.

"You said I'm cute."

"I said golden retrievers were cute."

"And you said I was a golden retriever, therefore, you said I'm cute."

"Shut up, Jonah."

"Fine, I'm going." He opened the door and paused again. "And you're right. Life can be shitty sometimes, and we just have to deal with it. But I'm here if you ever want a shoulder, or a pep talk, or a friendly dinner. Or not friendly. Whatever. I can wait till you're ready."

Amy sighed as the door closed behind him. And then she smiled.


End file.
